Made in Crazy
by steshin
Summary: Sheryl Nome sets out to find a pair of earrings, a family heirloom that's been missing for years. Helping her is one reluctant Saotome Alto, who wonders to hell how all this happened.
1. Prologue

Disclaimers apply. I do not own Macross Frontier or anything related to the Macross franchise. This piece of fiction was inspired by the awesome Jayne Ann Krentz and is dedicated to all my Skullfaerie comrades, old and new.

* * *

Sheryl Nome smiled with brimming enthusiasm as she looked down ten stories below from her window. Her unconcealed glee radiated inside the cheerfully cluttered space. After taking her fill of watching random cars pass by, she turned around to find Grace O'Connor, sitting regally on the couch with one ankle tucked behind the other, her hands clasped together on her lap. She radiated the aura of the capable woman that she was. Unfortunately, unlike Sheryl, Grace wasn't mirroring the same enthusiasm.

"Sheryl, please reconsider doing something this foolish."

Sheryl allowed a frown to take place of the smile she had been wearing since this morning. Heaving a sigh, she walked over to where she placed her cup of tea while almost stumbling in the process from the various objects lying around on the floor. Thankfully, the tea was still warm.

"_Mou_, Grace, don't be such a wet blanket." She took a sip and grimaced and the not-so-fresh taste. She carefully set the cup down on top of a wooden antique, promising herself she'd pick it up later—just as she had promised to pick up the other objects scattered about.

"Besides, those earrings belong to my family history, it wouldn't be right to just let it remain buried in some forsaken part of this galaxy, I'm going after them."

Grace sighed without breaking her composure before trying once more to reason with the stubborn girl.  
"Sheryl, Mao Nome—your grandmother had plenty of time to search and dig up those lost earrings, so did your mother. Considering none of them ever wasted time to do so, I don't see why you should."

"Oh, Grace! You just don't understand." Sheryl pouted, as she scanned the floor for her hairbrush. _It was around here somewhere…_

As if reading her mind, Grace picked up the throw pillow sitting by her side, revealing the sought after hairbrush.

"I understand that you're too impulsive. That's really all I need to know."

Sheryl busied herself by brushing her strawberry-blonde hair, her brows furrowed down at her manager's pessimism.

"Besides," Grace continued, "this Saotome Alto of yours, are you even sure he can be trusted?"

At the mention of that name, Sheryl accidentally—and painfully pulled her own hair with the brush. She massaged the slightly sore spot on her scalp as she looked at Grace straight in the face, with an adorable flush on her face.

"What makes you think he can't be?"

Grace pushed up her glasses a little higher and then proceeded to dissuade the young woman with her rational reasons.  
"Well firstly, you don't know him on a personal level. You've only corresponded with him through emails—and your emails only talk about this earrings business."

"Well, he's a pilot! It's quite generous of him to be able to entertain my emails. Most pilots I know are just hotshots that are too obsessed with their planes and women close by."

Grace raised an amused eyebrow. "Sheryl, you don't know anyone who's a pilot." It was a simple statement drawn out and true.

Sheryl reddened, "Well—I know Alto! I told you, he's a pilot!"

Grace massaged the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger in exasperation.

"We're back to square one again. Sheryl, you don't know him. You don't know _enough_ about him. And the net is known for unscrupulous characters you'd hope you'd never have to encounter. This pilot might only be pure _merde_ for all you know."

Sheryl bit her lower lip out of frustration. Grace had a point. But nonetheless she was certain of Alto's character. She did not really know much about him _on a personal level_, as Grace put it, she also didn't know what he looked like. Only fair, since she, herself, didn't bother giving out what she looked like. Despite all that, Sheryl just had a gut feeling about Alto when he first replied to her post about Mao Nome. She just knew that Alto and the earrings were linked together. Somehow, she just knew it. The feeling only solidified as they began a regular once-a-week correspondence for almost four months. Perhaps it wasn't practical to go around making decisions based on things like emotions but Sheryl Nome was never really known to be of the practical sort.

"I also find it fishy how a supposedly respected pilot would agree to such a whim"—

"I haven't told him yet."

…

…

"_What?!_"

Sheryl smiled; it had been a long while since she last saw Grace lose poise. Moments like these were very rare.

"Sheryl Nome…let me get this straight…" Grace stood up from the couch, only to plop back down. She reminded Sheryl of a malfunctioning computer.

"You think you can just waltz on over to him, wave a map in front of his face and expect him to agree to go with you on this treasure hunt?"

"More or less, I guess." Sheryl chirped happily.

"Sheryl. That's insane. I don't care how good you think your intuition is. You can't just"—

"I just know Alto and the earrings are linked together!"

Grace eyed her suspiciously.

…

…

_!!!_

"Sheryl…don't tell me you're planning to pursue _both of them_!"

…

…

…

A blush.

"What if I am?"

…

…

"I need an aspirin." With that said, Grace steadily moved out from the couch and made her way to the kitchen—that was even more of a disaster zone than the living room.

Sheryl merely shrugged at the retreating back of her manager before moving to the small nook of the living room that served as her little working place where she wrote her music and lyrics. Unlike the rest of her penthouse, this area was in complete order—and probably the only place that was. Smiling to herself, she picked up a printed copy of one of Alto's emails and read it to herself.

_Miss Fairy,_

_In regards to your recent inquiry about Mao Nome's earrings, I'm afraid I can only tell you the things you already know. Legend states that Mao Nome was given a pair of earrings made out of fold quartz that was passed down from generation to generation by her family. Ordinarily, the eldest daughter was the one who had the honor to receive the heirloom but considering how her older sister, Sara, was a priestess, it can be presumed that Mao was an exception to that rule— or that Sara simply gave it to her._

_In any case, the story points out that someone pilfered the set of earrings before Mao departed from the islands to become a doctor. This certain someone was said to be a missionary teacher, who had an eye for tribal jewelry. Afraid of the severe punishment for thievery, she buried the earrings and made a map to the spot. Many years later, before her death, she was plagued with guilt and to make amends, had the map delivered to Mao Nome. Whether the map made it to Mao, who was already a doctor at that time, is another mystery. I am surprised that you are familiar with this legend. It is rather an obscure one. Personally, I believe that there isn't much merit in this tale. Searching for the earrings would probably be a waste of your time. A costly waste of time at that. If you have any more questions, don't hesitate to ask. _

_Yours,_

_Saotome A._

_P.S. Thank you for your recommendation on enka songs._

"Well, Saotome Alto," Sheryl giggled as she placed the paper back down on her desk, "I'm willing to _costly _waste my time searching for those earrings. And what's more, you're going to help me find them."


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimers apply. I do not own Macross Frontier or anything related to the Macross franchise. This piece of fiction was inspired by the awesome Jayne Ann Krentz and is dedicated to all my Skullfaerie comrades, old and new.

* * *

This Frontier place was a pretty sight, Sheryl mused to herself. It was not at all like the slums in Galaxy. In fact, there were no slums at all! Then again, she had so far seen only a small portion of the city to make such a claim.

Grace had eventually given up and told Sheryl to do whatever she wanted as she moved her schedules like the miracle worker she was.  
"_Just make sure, you get some inspiration to write a few songs._"She had said with much seriousness. "_You might as well have something productive to do while on this foolish hunt._"

Sheryl brushed off her manager's words, as she read the piece of paper Grace had provided for the nth time. Grace had done some of her magic to pinpoint the exact location of Alto, or rather the computer he was using, by exploiting his IP address and doing other technical stuff that Sheryl would not really care much about.

It seemed that Alto frequently used a computer in a place called SMS, most probably where he worked. That was a good place to start. She began to wonder what kind of uniform he wore.

Smiling to herself—something she had been doing frequently—she turned to a shop window and checked on her disguise.

She had contemplated on dyeing her hair but chickened out on the last minute. A wig wouldn't have been able to hide all her hair unless she pulled a _Britney Spears_, so she settled for a black floppy hat, as well as a pair of sunglasses. Well, so far, no one had been able to recognize her, so her disguise was effective.

She began to hum as she hailed for a cab.

* * *

Saotome Alto was busy reading an interesting article about some old mecha anime franchise in a magazine.

He raised a skeptical brow. "How do crappy love triangles and music fit in with all this action?"  
Suddenly bored, he closed the magazine and placed it back properly to the magazine rack. He picked up his empty plate that had been inhabited by a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch and padded over to the kitchen sink and washed it. He had discovered long ago that if you never picked up on the dishes, they were never going to be picked up at all. He was drying up the now-clean plate when he heard the doorbell.

His eyes looked heavenward.

"Who the hell could that be? And on my vacation, too…"

Setting the plate on the dish rack, he wiped his hands to his pants as he walked over to go greet the disturbance. When he opened the door, he was not prepared to find a woman standing there, especially one whose fashion choice involved a floppy hat and a huge pair of sunglasses.  
Alto could see his surprised face staring at him in the dark lenses.

The woman gasped at his sight.

"_Ara ara!_" Her oversized shoulder bag slipped down to her elbow as she used two hands to cover her gaping mouth. Alto blinked.

"Err, can I help you?"

"You really are as beautiful as they say!"

Alto blinked again. Did she just—did she—had he heard her right?

"_Excuse me?_"

"I dropped by the place you worked but when I asked for you, they told me that the "princess" was on vacation. Is that a nickname of yours? If so, it's very fitting! I had always expected you would look ruggedly handsome but that doesn't matter. They were right, you are beautiful! If I didn't know any better, I would have mistaken you for a woman. A friend of yours, Michel, was kind enough to drop me off here, he told me to say hello for him."

To say Alto was shocked, would have been the complete understatement of the century. He stared at strange smiling woman, the words she had spoken weighed in his head. His stare eventually turned into a glare. He then asked, rather growled, a question any sane man would ask in his situation.

"_Who the hell are you?_"

She was not deterred by his scowl. Not one bit. This only freaked Alto more.

"It's me! Miss Fairy."

When Alto just continued to gawk at her like she was some cactus alien from space, she added, "You know, _Miss Fairy_. Fairy O nine at galaxy dot com?" She tilted her head to one side as she regarded his pretty face. She watched as the information slowly dawned on him.

"…That one who keeps asking about those earrings?" He cautiously asked.

She beamed and nodded her head. "That's right! We've known each other for four months now."

"Lady, we've just met."

"_Eh! _But we've been communicating for four months now," she pouted, slightly put off by his reaction. She then began to peer curiously inside the room behind him, "Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" It sounded more like a demand than a polite inquiry, like she had the very right to invade his home.

Alto narrowed his already narrowed eyes.

"Why should I?"

"Because if you don't…" She tapped a thoughtful finger to her chin, "I might be tempted to pull off a scene as a rejected woman begging for the man who impregnated her to accept responsibility. That would surely make the neighbors talk for weeks. But I'd rather we don't come to that, _ne?_"

…

…

"Come in."

"_Hm?_"

"I said, come in, **please.**"

"Thank you." She walked inside his domain with a triumphant smile. Alto shut the door as soon as she entered. That threat she made still rang clear in his head. If he had not let her in, she would probably have done as what she declared. No doubt, this woman was dangerous, which brought him to question his own sanity for letting her in.

* * *

Sheryl surveyed the habitat of Saotome Alto and was immediately impressed by how clean the place was. Everything looked new and well-maintained. Magazines were filed in a perfect fashion in the rack. Books were precisely sorted and organized by color in the bookcases. On top of the bookcases were a bunch of plane models. She glanced over the chess game set up in a small corner table and noted how even the pieces looked neat and arranged. There was nothing out of place; everything was in perfect order. She certainly did not expect him to be a neat-freak. But despite the spic and span, she noted how the atmosphere had a dark and gloomy feel to it. Then again, it could just be the fact that the curtains were closed.

She shrugged out from her coat and tossed it to the couch, followed by her floppy hat. Alto looked unpleased at the small bundle of disorder on his couch but made no comment and simply picked it up to hang to his hall rack near the entry. He turned around just as Sheryl removed her sunglasses.

His eyes widened like saucers.

"You're"—

Sheryl held a hand up, her face stern.

"Saotome Alto, if you turn into a sniveling male fan who will grovel at my feet and wait on my every whim while singing my praises, I will immediately step outside and walk out of your life. If I wanted a human pet, I could easily just have my pick from the vast and lecherous crowd. I do not want you treating me like a celebrity goddess, do you hear me? I simply won't have it. I hope you put that to your understanding. Understand? Now, if you understand, say something."

She dropped her hand and waited for his response.

…

…

…

…

"_**THE HELL?!**_"

"Good! I'm glad you get it."

"You think I would grovel at your feet just because you're Sheryl Nome?!"

"Well, it's happened a lot."

"Well, don't expect the same treatment from me! Unfortunately for you, I'm _not_ a fan."

Sheryl clasped her hands together at that statement, her face colored with delight. She looked as if he had proposed marriage or something.

"Oh, Alto. I just knew you were different from the moment we met."

"What? When you practically just called me a girl in front of my own house?"

"No! When you answered my post about the earrings," she said with bright joy. She sat down on his couch, feeling giddy with excitement. Alto remained standing. He looked as if he didn't know what to do. What _does_ one do when a famous celebrity barges into your own home? Should he call the cops in the guise of ordering pizza? No, bringing the law in would only attract more trouble, especially when it involved a famous singer dubbed as the Galactic Fairy.

"I think I need an aspirin…"

"A cup of tea helps for a headache," Sheryl offered, which he ignored as he made his way through his kitchen. The woman was right at his heels. In the clinical order of his kitchen, he drowned in two aspirins with a carton of juice. He returned it inside the fridge, shut the door and turned back his attention to his unwanted guest, who seated herself to one of the ladder-back chairs. Her fingers were drumming on the kitchen table. She looked miffed.

Alto felt a shiver go down his spine.

"…What?"

"You shouldn't do that!"

"Do what?"

"Well for one, you drink water when it comes to pills and such not with juice or any other beverages. Grace told me it's bad for you."

"Grace?"

"_Another_. What _really_ peeved me was how you were drinking _straight_ out from the carton. How very inconsiderate for someone else who'd care for a glass of healthy organic orange juice..."

"Why? Did you want juice?"

"No. But what if I did?"

Alto gritted his teeth in frustration.

"You have to understand. I live _alone _and don't see the sense of using a glass when"—

"If we progressed to lovers, I wouldn't mind so much if you did that on a regular basis. But right now, we"—

"_**LOVERS?!**_"

Sheryl realized her mistake and brought a hand to cover her gasp.

"_Ara ara_, I guess I went a little fast there." She smiled, dismissing her little slip. "Anyway, we have plenty of time to talk about our relationship. Let's get down to another reason I'm here."

"Sheryl…"

"Yes, Alto?"

"Is there a hidden camera somewhere?"

"Fret not, Alto. This is no prank show. This is very much happening." She assured him.

"…Actually, I would have _preferred_ this were a prank show."

"Anyway, have a seat," she offered like she was the owner of the house. Alto sat down, much safer than standing where he could collapse at any moment from the bolts of shock this woman kept sending his way.

"Alto," her face was bound to crack from all her smiling, Alto thought. "It's time."

"Time? Time for what?"

The seemingly-permanent smile remained as she dug up something from her oversized bag. She placed a clear plastic envelope protecting a sheet of paper onto the table. For the first time since she came from nowhere, Alto's face showed genuine interest. He examined it closely.

"This is…"

"A copy of the map to Mao Nome's earrings. The map was willed down to me. Mao Nome was my grandmother and the earrings are a family heirloom." her words then heightened with great enthusiasm. "Its time we go out and find them."

"_We?_"

"That's right. This will be our little project."

"It's already _our_ project without my say?!"

"It was already our project the moment this idea came to me."

"And when the hell was that?"

"I believe I was taking a shower that time. I usually get great ideas inside the shower, you know."

Alto looked unwillingly fascinated but broke himself from that spell. With a surge of renewed anger, he shot up from his seat and glowered at her, hoping to intimidate her with his size.

"You think you can just waltz on over to me, wave a map in front of my face and expect me to agree to go with you on this treasure hunt?!"

_Hmm…why did that sound familiar?_

Alto ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, the action captivating Sheryl.

"You're one crazy woman…"

"Why?"

He stiffened. He shot her a look of murder. Then, snapped.

"WHY?! _**WHY?!**_"

Sheryl folded her arms and gazed up at him with disapproval. "I see no need to shout."

"There are a million reasons why!"

"…Like?"

"Well for starters, _you don't know me!_ I could be an axe murderer for all you know! Maybe even a rapist or some guy who stalks celebrities!"

"Are you?"

"Of course not!"

"Then we have nothing to worry about."

Alto slapped his own forehead, wishing like hell that he could be out riding in the sky with Michel and Luca than being subjected into this vacation. Why was this happening? He should have never paid any attention in literature class back in high school, where they had been discussing various legends and myths. That way, he would have never been able to answer a certain post by a certain _Miss Fairy_. What the hell did he do to deserve all this?

Sheryl used his silence to talk.

"Anyway, I just knew it was time to go out and search for the earrings. I also knew that you would be the one to help me find them!"

"Why me?" There was a desolated edge in his voice. Sheryl ignored that.

"I'm not sure. But the moment I read your first message to me, I just _knew_ it had to be you. I can't really explain it well—but my intuition just told me that you were linked to the earrings. I have great intuition you know. And the moment we started a regular correspondence, I knew I would like you very much. I hope you feel the same way about me."

Alto was speechless for some time but eventually opened his mouth.

"Sheryl, I'll be nothing but honest here….I don't know _what_ to feel about you!"

"Well, you don't have to make up your mind this very instant."

"I don't? What a relief!"

Sheryl stood up from her chair while digging for a scrap of paper and pen in her bag. Alto frowned, watching her scribble down something.

"Here's the place where I'm staying right now. It's the hotel in the heart of the city, do you know it?" She handed him a small business card, with the written information at the back.

He scowled at it. "Of course I know it. I live here."

"Perfect," She grabbed the protected copy of the map, stuffing it carelessly inside her bag—defeating the purpose of the clear plastic envelope. "I expect you to pick me up at around seven sharp. Grace told me that there was a nice little restaurant nearby. We can settle the details of our association over dinner."

"_Dinner._"

"Yes dinner. You do eat dinner, don't you?"

"Yes I eat dinner but the point is…"

"Don't worry, it's my treat," Alto looked like he was about to protest when Sheryl pulled out a card every woman used to get their way.

_Oh God, it was…._

The dreaded puppy-dog pout.

Alto was no match.

"Please, Alto….this is really _really_ important to me. I'm sure that once when you have plenty of time to think about it and discuss things over dinner, you'll realize that you do want to join me in this little adventure. I'm prepared to pay you a very generous wage. What do you say?"

…

…

"What if I said I had a girlfriend?"

"No, you don't."

"Damn."

"So, it's settled." Sheryl said with cheerful finality. She adjusted her bag and put on her sunglasses. Alto followed her to the front door after she collected her coat and hat. "I'll see you at seven, Alto." She tiptoed and gave him a peck on the cheek, which stunned Alto in disbelief. Sheryl opened the door and closed it on her way out.

Alto just stood there, staring at the closed door.

…

…

…

"What the hell just happened?"


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimers apply. I do not own Macross Frontier or anything related to the Macross franchise. This piece of fiction was inspired by the awesome Jayne Ann Krentz and is dedicated to all my Skullfaerie comrades, old and new.

* * *

"Angry princess coming through!"

Michel and Luca looked behind them and, sure enough, a livid princess was stomping towards them. Luca tried to bite back his fear at the scary sight and looked up towards Michel with an _"I don't know why but I am so blaming you"_ look. "Sempai, what did you do this time?"  
Michel looked offended and found an urge to whack the shouta's head, "Why the hell are you blaming me?" Luca just shrugged as if it would suffice for an answer.

"For all you know, Luca," Michel glared at his childlike friend, "he could be angry at you"—

"_**MICHEL!**_"

"…or not."

Sighing, Michel mentally prepared himself for the PMSing princess before turning around with his ever-present signature playboy smile. Michel had a knack for looking cool no matter what situation occurred, one of the specialties that made him Michel Blanc "Alto, what brings you here?"

"Isn't it Alto-sempai's vacation?" Luca joined in.

Alto halted, standing in front of them, his hands clenching and eyebrows ticking. His eyes held murder in them. Luca quickly hid behind Michel, his knees trembling while his human shield remained smiling as if nothing were wrong. "Well, Alto?" Michel lifted a brow in patient inquiry.

"You sent her!"

"_Hm?_"

"Don't play dumb!"

"I don't play _your game_, Alto. By her, I suppose your referring to that charming woman early this afternoon?"

"_Charming?!_" Alto looked positively frenzied at the simple adjective, "you call that crazy woman _charming_?!"

Michel frowned, "If anyone is crazy, Alto, it's you." The spectacled pilot stepped forward, Luca dogging right behind him, as if stepping out of Michel's shadow of protection would end his very life.

"A beautiful and delightful woman such as her does not deserve to be called crazy by such a brute as yourself. Why, I as a gentleman"—

A snort.

"You're no gentleman, you're a playboy!"

"Shut up, Alto."

Alto made no comment and began pacing in front of them like a man in serious contemplation before being sent to the gallows. Michel and Luca followed him with their eyes, amusement and curiosity sparking their interest.

"That woman came for the earrings…" Alto mumbled absently. "She wants my help in finding them."

"You mean she's Miss Fairy? The _Miss Fairy?_ Didn't you say she was some old lady who had nothing better to do?"

"That was my impression on her."

"Well you were certainly far-off! That woman is a babe." Michel whistled long and low for emphasis, "Alto, you lucky bastard, you."  
Luca, sensing that the danger had past, silently stepped out from behind his sempai to awe at his other (prettier) sempai, bright admiration in his eyes. "Alto-sempai, that woman seemed really into you, more than any girl who's ever been interested in Michel-sempai."

"Shut up, Luca."

"Eh! But it's true."

"I said shut up, Luca!"

"Ouch! Stop hitting me!"

As Michel and Luca squabbled in the background, Alto's mind was processing in serious thought. He had three hours before the dreaded dinner meeting. That was plenty of enough time to come up with an excuse not to go. Then again…the woman knew where he lived. And based on his impression of her, she looked like the kind of woman who would stake out in front of his house for his return should he decide to stay in someone else's pad for a while. Also, being Sheryl Nome, that woman could easily wrap her little finger around any of his friends to get some juice on him. He also had to take in consideration that she knew where he worked and it would be difficult to avoid her unless he asked for a secret transfer or—

He froze in his next step.

!!!

_Wait. A. Freakin'. Minute…_

This sounded as if he were scared of the woman! Alto had lived a life of hardships and encountered situations fraught with real danger and fear. He had seen things that people ordinarily wouldn't be able to stomach at the mere thought. Now suddenly, a (forced) dinner invitation made him uneasy? This was ridiculous! There was no way in hell he would be cowed down by something like that.

A decision was made.

Noticing that Alto had stopped pacing, Michel and Luca's attention returned to him.

"Alto-sempai?" Luca's voice squeaked; Michel's hands coiled around his neck.

There was a lengthy silence in the air before Alto spoke.

"Michel…"

"Yea, Alto?"

…

…

"I need to borrow your tuxedo."

* * *

Saotome Alto was, in no way, intimidated by the woman. So what if she was Sheryl Nome? She was still human. Shutting the door of Ozma's car that he had borrowed (_Ozma: Get one scratch on my baby, you're dead!_), he checked his watch to find that he was three minutes late. It was no big deal. Better (a little) late than never, especially considering how he had thought of _not_ showing up.

Shoving the key down his pocket, he inspected himself in the car window. The sight of him in a tuxedo was foreign to him. The last time he had worn one was in senior prom with Ranka as his date. That event felt like it had taken place eons ago in some other dimension. He bent forward to get a better view of his reflection while fixing his fringe. Peering closer to the glass, he saw an unruly lock of hair standing up like a rebel to the gentle ministrations of the night breeze. He was about to fix it when the sound of giggling startled him.

"You look like a kid on a first date."

Alto watched Sheryl's laughing reflection with embarrassment at being caught. He pivoted around and met her with a glare.

"Don't sneak up like that!" He barked.

Sheryl's laughter slowly died down, "I was merely saving you the trip of going inside. You should be grateful, especially considering how you're late." She gave her shoulders a little shrug as she haughtily raised her head at him.

"It was only a few measly minutes."

"Well don't make it a habit," she warned, "I don't take kindly to tardiness."

Alto rolled his eyes, "You're going to fire me over three minutes?"

She let out a sharp gasp, which once again caused a startle in Alto. She was looking at him in that weird look again. That look of having been proposed with a diamond ring or something.

"Oh Alto!" She clasped her hands together, "does that mean you've agreed?"

"I'm still thinking about it…" Alto replied. He felt a stab of guilt when her face fell down in stark disappointment.

"Oh…"

"Hey, you still have tonight to change my mind." Hearing that statement coming from his mouth, Alto felt the desire to bite off his own tongue. Great, now he was encouraging her. Just great. The look was back on her face. Such a fast recovery rate…

"You're right! By tonight, I'm sure you'll agree. I just know you will."

"Your intuition telling you?"

She nodded.

He sighed.

"In any case, let's head out already," he was fishing for the car keys when a fake cough brought his attention back to her. "What?"

"You're supposed to compliment me," she said with female indignity. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

Alto blinked. Astounded.

"Compliment you? What the heck am I supposed to say?"

Sheryl harrumphed, "saying I'm beautiful could be a start."

"Well, you're Sheryl Nome. That goes without saying, doesn't it?"

"I want to hear you say it!" She demanded, "A woman wants to be complimented for her endeavor of looking good on her date."

"I thought this was a discussion over dinner."

"Say it!"

"Oh for the love of—_Fine!_ You look"—his eyes roved her body, from her painted toes to her shapely calves to the black dress that shaped her figure, he lingered a bit long on the low-cleavage of her dress before meeting her impatient face "—lovely." The word sounded swallowed but it didn't matter because she looked pleased like a smug cat that had snacked on a canary.

"Why thank you, Alto." She blushed prettily as if he had made that flattering remark by his own free will.

"Whatever," Alto grumbled as he unlocked the car doors, "now get in the car."

"A gentleman opens the door for the lady."

There was an authority veiled in that comment, without waiting for another word, Alto came around to the passenger side and opened the door for the infuriating woman like some chauffeur. She thanked him happily as she got in. Alto tried not to slam the door too hard (remembering that this was Ozma's car).

He sighed as he went to his side. One thing was sure, he thought as Sheryl blasted the insides of the car with Ozma's Basara music.

…This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Alto blinked in astonishment at what he was seeing. Or rather, what he was _not_ seeing. There was not a single customer sitting in any of the finely decorated tables in the restaurant. Considering this was a popular establishment, Alto had expected a flock of people to have the place packed. If one didn't know any better, it was as if the place never had a single diner come in. It must really be a slow day for business—

"I had the whole place reserved for just the two of us!"

…

…

Never mind.

Ten minutes later, they were seated in the best seat of the house, a table on the rooftop that had a beautiful view on the gardens below. The stars were shining overhead, washing everything with its brilliance. The scent of the garden flowers wafted with the breeze, accompanied with soft music somewhere in the background, and the candlelight created an intimate mood to complete a romantic evening. Sheryl's chest fluttered with a wonderful sensation as she glanced down the menu with a smile.

_Everything was perfect._

_Everything was scary._

Alto looked nervously around his surroundings with trepidation. This was not how he expected the dinner thing to go. He had expected people, other customers to make him feel not completely alone with the unpredictable woman sitting across him. Damn it! Everything looked like a set for some romantic movie— and he was cast into the leading role by mistake.

"Alto, what are you having?" Sheryl's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Umm…whatever you're having is fine with me," but then realizing that couples tend to order the same thing to eat, Alto was quick to say, "On second thought, I'll have what you're _**not**_ having!"

Sheryl blinked.

"What?"

Alto felt the urge to do a facepalm.

"…I'll just have a steak. Medium-rare or well-done, whatever works."

"Well-done it is," Sheryl decided, "it's a safer choice. I, on the other hand, will have pasta."

"Great."

About five minutes later, a waiter came and took their orders. If he was thrilled to have Sheryl Nome as a customer, he did not show it. He left them soon enough after serving the wine and taking orders.

"_Ne_, Alto," Sheryl began, flapping her napkin to her lap, "how long have you been a pilot?"

"Four years," he answered, taking a small sip from his glass. The wine was icy cold to his teeth.

"What exactly do you do?"

"I transport supplies, usually for the government, from one location to another. I also fly equipments, medicine, weaponries, jewelries—you name it for big shot clients. As long as they can pay to the standard high fees of SMS, we deliver the goods. And when we deliver, we really deliver."

"Meaning…?"

"We really see to it that the stuff gets to the right hands. When we have to—we trek the jungles to get the job done."

Sheryl's eyes lit up with excitement. "You've been to a jungle?"

He hesitated. "More than I can count. Galia was where I frequently delivered." As the name of the place rolled off from Alto's lips, Sheryl noted an unreadable expression take place in Alto's face. His lips set into a straight line and his cryptic eyes looked as if he were gazing into another place in another time, his mind wandering into secretive thoughts and hidden memories. Thoughts and memories that weren't open for Sheryl …

Sheryl frowned, something must have happened in Galia. Something unpleasant that left a mark on him.

"Do you guys do anything illegal?" Sheryl questioned in a hushed voice, as if afraid that someone could hear them.

Alto's answer was a simple, "We walk on a thin line from time to time. Things are different in other places, Sheryl."

"I see…"

The romantic mood Sheryl had planned now turned into a heavy solemn mood of doom. It was like a dinner affair after a funeral. Alto certainly made it feel like one with his now-somber disposition. Straightening herself, Sheryl decided to steer things back to the proper path. With the brightest smile, she cleared her throat, getting Alto to look up from his tableware.

"Let's talk about something else, shall we?" She leaned in closer. "Let's talk about our project, _ne?_"

The newly mentioned topic earned a snarky frown from Alto. "Right, _our_ project." Alto leaned back on his chair, crossing his arms across his chest as he listened to Sheryl speak first.

"Now, I've already talked it over with Grace and she said she could get us flight tickets to the Mayan islands anytime I say so. She can also book us fancy suites in a resort. Money is nothing to worry about because"—

Alto held a hand up.

"You're doing it again."

"Eh?"

"Talking like I've already agreed to this whole treasure hunt of yours. Look Sheryl, I think you need to really think twice about this. As I've mentioned in my messages, this whole thing is a waste of time, effort and money."

"But"—

He cut her off again. "I came here tonight to help you see things clearly, to get you to back down on this crazy idea." That was his only reason, he thought. Nothing else…hopefully…

"Why are you so negative?" Sheryl pouted, "And FYI, I don't need to see things clearly. Everything was crystal clear the moment this idea occurred to me. We're going to find the earrings. I am very sure of it."

Her certainty was staggering. "How can you be so confident?"

"I just am."

"Let me guess, your"—

"My intuition, yes."

"Sheryl, I'm just being realistic here."

"Alto, don't you want to have some excitement in life? The lure of fortune, the rush, the thrill, the adventure, the lust?"

"I already get plenty of excitement in the SMS. Also…" Alto's eyes gleamed, as he looked at her meaningfully. "I tend to focus my lust on more _accessible_ objects."

"Are you trying to scare me, Alto?"

"Somehow, I don't think that's possible."

"Indeed."

"You're really dead-set against finding the earrings, aren't you?"

"Yes," she beamed.

"What if I said no to all this?"

"But Alto…" her eyes searched his' beseechingly, "I'm counting on you."

"Drop the doe-eyed look, Sheryl. I don't respond to that." Like hell. He was responding to it. Picking up a paper napkin, Alto set himself in making a paper plane. Etiquette could just go rot in hell.

"Any idea how much the earrings cost?" He asked casually.

"Not really. But I'm sure it's worth a lot of money. Fold quartz doesn't grow on trees, you know," She reached for her wine glass and swirled the content. Thoughtfully, she added, "Those earrings belong to my grandmother. A part of my family. They're family heirlooms, naturally I want them."

Alto grunted. "Right. Family heirlooms. I'm sure the money doesn't interest you. Just the pure old-fashioned historic sentimental value… I suppose you're not going to sell them." He examined his plane to the light.

Sheryl had been meaning to take a drink but Alto's remarks made her put down her glass with great care. "What are you saying?" She hissed, embers glowing in her eyes, "do you think I'm some kind of opportunist? A scheming little gold-digger who wants to make a quick buck? "

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to. You laid the meaning down perfectly." She threw her hands down her lap with disgust. "Didn't it occur to you that I'm Sheryl Nome? I don't need the money. I"—

"The publicity would be good for you," Alto said off-handedly, "I can picture the headlines. _Galactic Fairy uncovers family heirloom_…or something like that. That would certainly give you a nice boost, wouldn't it?" He sent his plane flying from his seat, the night wind bringing the folded paper to the gardens.

"…Do you really think of me that lowly?" Her watery voice shook his conscience. He turned his direction away from the gardens to Sheryl and saw how the tears in her eyes glistened in the candlelight. She looked like a wounded animal. Alto held his breath and winced, while cursing mentally for his idiocy.

"Sheryl, I'm"—

"Dinner is served," the oblivious waiter chose the perfect moment to come in. Alto gritted his teeth, the urge to punch him growing at his seemingly deliberate slowness of setting their meal. When the nuisance left, Alto opened his mouth.

"Sheryl, I'm sorry. I didn't"—

"Saotome-san, please shut up." She snapped as she twirled on her pasta with calm violence, "don't ruin my appetite."

_Shit. Nice going, Saotome. Real smooth. Michel would really be proud of you. Not. You not only managed to turn her off completely but you had to hurt her, too. At least you know who's going to win in this year's Asshole Awards. Nice, Alto, real nice._

An unexpected sense of loss welled inside of him as Sheryl ignored him throughout dinner.

* * *

Sheryl was still ignoring him as Alto drove her home. Not one word passed between them.  
In her seat, she was wallowing in how wrong she had been about Alto. The disbelief robbed her of anything to say.  
While Sheryl had regarded Alto as a sort of soul mate in their correspondence, developing foolish feelings and girlish fantasies that served as inspiration to her songs, Alto had thought nothing about her. Nothing at all. Had she really misjudged him?

"We're here."

Sheryl blinked. She hadn't been paying attention. She could see the flashing sign of her hotel. Mentally sighing, she looked over to Alto with a smile made of cold politeness.

"Good night," her tone was emotionless, "I'm sorry for having wasted your time and for being such a pain...Good night."

Alto did not reply in the shadows, the outside lights casted on his face did not show any hint of what he was thinking. Sheryl was reaching out for the door handle when Alto uttered,

"Is the offer still open?"

Her hand froze. "…What?"

"I'm taking you up on your offer."

"_Alto,_" all her doubts immediately was forgotten, flying out the car window. Then, out of impulsive happiness, she threw herself across the seat and into his arms.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimers apply. I do not own Macross Frontier or anything related to the Macross franchise. This piece of fiction was inspired by the awesome Jayne Ann Krentz and is dedicated to all my Skullfaerie comrades, old and new.

* * *

Sheryl had only intended for a quick little hug—but when she was about to pull away, Alto's arms suddenly wrapped around her frame, eliciting a surprised gasp from her. She placed her hands on his chest with the purpose of pushing him away when his mouth came down on hers.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. Saotome Alto was kissing her!

Moments ago, Sheryl had already come to the conclusion that Alto had felt nothing but distaste towards her. The feel of his lips on hers sure proved otherwise. Somewhere between Alto deepening the kiss and pushing her against the seat, it struck Sheryl that she should be getting him away from her and be pissed at him.

But the idea wasn't very appealing compared to this.

"_Alto_…" Sheryl whispered breathlessly, the effects of his kiss lingering on her lips with a tingling sensation that managed to go all the way down her toes.

He was looking down at her with an intense look. She could make out a flushed color on his complexion and the lust-filled expression in his eyes. He brought his fingertips to the base of her throat and drew feather-light circles; the ginger touch stirred the desire gathering inside Sheryl.

"You may be annoying…" he murmured as he replaced his fingers with his lips, "but you're attractive as hell."

Sheryl felt a smile on her lips as her hands rested on his shoulders, "…Really?"

Her eyes closed with a dreamy feeling.

"Yeah, as long as you keep your big mouth shut."

Her eyes flared open.

"As long as _what?!_"

"You heard me." Alto was too occupied nipping on her skin to even look at her. Sheryl wanted to complain some more but found Alto's touch too distracting on her part to concentrate. It was hard to think of good insults when his lips were working on her throat like that.

She let out a small whimper when his teeth scraped gently on her skin. Her head tipped back against the seat, letting the sensations take over. She kicked off her shoes, allowing her toes to curl from the pleasure without any restraint.

"_Alto_…"

He took her mouth once more and this time the kiss was even better than the first. Sheryl felt herself melt as his lips glided intoxicatingly over hers. He started nibbling on her lower lip and she felt a jolt of excitement when his hand brushed aside the lacy strap of her dress from her shoulder.  
She clung even more to him, her arms tightening around his neck as she arched her body closer. He extracted his mouth and returned to the base of her throat, his breath tickling her now-sensitive skin.

"Sheryl," he whispered in a ragged voice, as he kissed the side of her neck. Sheryl responded with a soft sigh of longing as she felt his palm pressing on her naked shoulder.

"Its okay, Sheryl," Alto whispered into her ear, his tone bitter. "You don't have to pretend."

Sheryl froze. An unimaginable feeling of cold took over the pleasant sensations she had been enjoying just moments ago.

"_Pretend?_ What do you mean pretend?"

"I already agreed to help you look for the earrings. You don't have to pay me with your body."

His words pricked her heart like needles. She started to struggle away from his arms. When he wouldn't let her go immediately, Sheryl freed one arm and aimed for a slap. Unfortunately he caught her just before her offending hand could land one on his face, his hand coiled around her wrist tightly.

His eyes glittered with suppressed fury.

"You're way ahead of yourself if you think I'm going to let you hit me."

She felt anger and fright teeming inside of her, as well as a world of hurt. "Let me go!"

"You started this."

"_Let go of me!_ I don't need you anymore! You can just go crawl back to where you came from, Saotome Alto! I don't need you! I'll be fine on my own!"

She wasn't going to let him see her cry. There was no way in hell, she'd let him.  
There was a lengthy silence as Alto studied her face as she remained captive in his arms. Then slowly, he released her. Sheryl made no hesitation. She scooted away from him and picked up her shoes, her hand on the door handle. Alto snatched her wrist before she could open the door.

"Let go of me!"

"Calm down, will you? You're too temperamental. …Besides, what did you expect me to do when you just threw yourself onto me?"

"I wasn't trying to be some cheap floozy that's for sure!" She tried once more to free her hand from his grip but to no avail. "I was only trying to give you an innocent hug!"

He snorted. "There wasn't anything innocent about that hug we had going on."

"Only because you tried to make it out into something else! And then you…you had the nerve to say—damn you, you asshole!"

Alto shut his eyes as he cursed out loud. Opening them, he looked at Sheryl with his ever cryptic expression.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

She stared at him stonily.

"I don't know. Are you?"

"Yes."

"For kissing me or for what you said after?"

He hesitated for a moment before truthfully answering, "Not for kissing you."

"Then how about calling me an opportunist and a slut?"

"I never called you any of that."

"You never had to! Are you sorry for that too?"

"…I guess."

Sheryl felt an urge to scratch his eyes out. "_I'm sorry. I guess._ You say that but I'm sure it doesn't change your opinion about me. I'm sure you still think I'm some kind of cheap slutty bimbo trying to make some easy money. You disgust me, Alto."

Alto sighed wearily. "I can see that much. Look, do we still have a deal?"

Enraged at how he seemed to take her feelings so lightly, Sheryl used all her strength to snatch her hand from his hold. She succeeded and he didn't do anything to stop her from opening the door. She struggled with her shoes and fixed her dress before stepping out.

She glowered down at Alto who was still waiting for her reply.

"I'll think about it," she said, then slammed the door.

_Hard._

_

* * *

_

Michel and Luca didn't bother looking away from their game when Alto came into their quarters. Both of them knew it was Alto right away for they had internal _hime radars_.

"Hey Alto-sempai," Luca greeted without taking his eyes off from the game, there was no way in hell he'd let Michel beat his sorry ass for the twentieth time tonight.

"Yo hime. How'd your date go?" Michel asked, about to beat Luca's sorry ass for the twentieth time tonight. Before he could pull his signature finishing move to Luca's fighter on the screen, he was suddenly blinded by an unknown object.

"_What the hell?!_"

Luca took the advantage of Michel's inconvenient moment to blow up his sempai's fighter to smithereens.

"_Yatta!_ I did it!" Luca cheered. Michel removed the cause of his loss from his handsome head. It was his tuxedo jacket. He turned his attention to Alto who was sitting on the edge of the bunk bed.

"What gives hime?! You just cost me my win streak!"

Alto grunted uncaringly as a response. He seemed grouchier than usual. Michel stood up from the floor that he and Luca had been sitting on in their video duels and approached closer to Alto as he effectively slipped into his role as _confidante _and best friend. He crossed his arms as he regarded his effeminate and sulking friend.

"I take it your date didn't go smoothly?"

Alto heaved an angry sigh.

"Alto-sempai, what happened?" Luca joined in, who was quite done and satisfied with his happy cheers and gloating of finally beating Michel. Alto glared at both of them.

"What are you guys?! A therapy group or something?!"

Michel clutched his chest as if he had been shot, "_Ouch!_ That hurt! Sorry for caring, Alto."

Luca's eyes turned glassy and his lips were trembling. "…Sorry for being a bother, sempai," he muttered softly.

_--And the award for best asshole goes to…_

Alto groaned. He had been enough of a jerk for one night already—Sheryl Nome could attest to that. He offered his friends what he hoped looked like a sorry expression that reflected his honest remorse. He really sucked at apologies.

"…Sorry. Things didn't go very well tonight."

"Yeah, well we could see that, your _ass_holiness," despite his words, Michel's playboy humor was in there. "So what happened? Did you scare the lady off with your devilish charm?"

Alto instantly remembered the kisses earlier and willed himself not to blush for whatever good that did.

"I didn't scare her off…"

"Pissed her off then, right?"

Alto let out a sigh, a wistful one. Michel whistled with amusement.

"Well, that wasn't too hard to guess."

"Michel-sempai…" Luca softly spoke with a tone that suggested a _"You are so not helping" _message and with furrowed eyebrows to match.

"Sure, sure, whatever," Michel waved his hand in nonchalance. He then refocused his attention back to the sulky princess, "so I guess this means you're not going to help the lady with the earrings, huh? That's good news for you, then. Now…if you could be as kind enough as to recommend _**me**_ to her, then…"

"Michel-sempai!"

"What? It would be such a waste to let a woman like that go."

Luca sighed. "You really are hopeless, Michel-sempai…"

"_Hey! _I don't want to hear that from a guy who openly fawns at a certain _Nanase-san_ without shame."

At the mention of that name, Luca brightened like red Christmas lights in December. "N-no, I d-don't."

"I'm ashamed at you, Luca. At least I appreciate the female species with _discretion_."

_How is bickering like a couple of kids helping me? _Alto thought, as he watched his friends argue like elementary students in a playground (with one of them _actually_ looking the part). His morose sigh went unnoticed, as the wheels in his head started turning on what his next step should be in regards to a certain strawberry-blond and her dogged determination to find a pair of earrings. He frowned in his thoughts. _I know I can lead her to the earrings….but then what?_

_

* * *

_

Sheryl Nome woke up to find her eyes slightly puffy from crying a river last night. Frowning, she stomped away from her reflection on the dresser mirror and made her way to the bathroom while cursing Alto's name, cosmetic bag in hand. In the sink, she performed her daily female ritual that would make her beautifully radiant for the whole day. Unfortunately, the ritual of beauty was taking longer than usual, considering the puffiness of her eyes. She was applying some eye shadow to help camouflage the redness, when she heard a tart knock on the door of the main suite.

"_Mou_, who could that be?" She wondered, as she stripped off her nightgown, carelessly throwing it on her bed. She put on her favorite blue dress with matching beret and white gloves. She was thinking of using a couple of accessories when the knocking intensified.

With annoyance, Sheryl ambled towards the door, kicking a few items lying on the floor with disregard.

"Yes, yes, hold your horses. Geez, don't you know that patience is a virtue—_Alto!_"

Alto greeted her with what looked like a semblance of a smile. "Sheryl."

Sheryl broke away from her stunned trance and fought off the giddy feeling of seeing Alto by reminding herself of last night and then giving him a rude glare. "What the hell are you doing here?" She hissed, opening the door a little wider, she didn't want him to think she was someone who was easily scared by hiding behind a door.

"I'm here because I'm going to help you look for the earrings," he said simply, his eyes traveled away from hers, taking in the sight of the room behind her. Sheryl suddenly felt self-conscious of her night gown on the messy bed, as well as the number of things spread on the floor. Much against her will, she cautiously looked over to the room and was completely horrified beyond belief when she spotted last night's underwear she had removed, taking center stage on the floor.

She slammed the door hard.

"It's rude to look into someone's room like that!" She admonished, her eyes staring at his boots rather than his face. She did not need a mirror to be aware of the fact that her face was probably ten times redder than a tomato.

"Umm….I d-didn't see anything…" Sheryl heard him stutter. Bravely, she pulled her view away from his shoes and stared into his face. His face was just as red as hers.

"Forget what you saw!" She commanded.

"I told you! I didn't see anything!"

"Yes, you did!"

"I saw nothing!"

"Liar!"

"You know it's hard to pretend that I didn't see _it_, if you'll keep going on like that!"

"God…how embarrassing…" A mortified Sheryl buried her hot face into her hands. Alto shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"Umm…so…" a cough, "like I said, I'm here to help you look for those earrings of yours."

Thankful for the change in topic, Sheryl composed herself mentally before meeting his eyes.

"Well Alto, as I recall, I said I'd think about it."

"Have you?"

"I still am."

He grumbled.

"Look, Sheryl. I know you're still upset about last night and I apologize for that. But at the same time, you can't blame me for acting the way I did."

She arched a brow, "I can't?"

"C'mon Sheryl, be reasonable. You just drop in on me from nowhere, acting like we were long lost lovers and then _conveniently_ ask for assistance on this treasure hunt of yours. With that, I am entitled to my own doubts."

"But"—

"I've already decided to help you already. For now, that should be more than enough for you."

Sheryl felt very much like a cornered puppy and she did not like the feeling at all. But after listening to what he said, Alto made a very strong point. She did just drop in on him drop in on him unexpectedly and then sprung this surprise treasure hunt on him. Any sane man would refuse on the spot, but Alto actually tolerated her and even went to dinner with her and what's more—he ended up agreeing to her wild proposition. She secretly questioned if he was just doing this simply because she was Sheryl Nome. And he was afraid of whatever consequences would come if he rejected (consequences in the form of Grace O'Connor).

Then suddenly, it hit her.

_**Why** was he agreeing to all this?_

The whole time, he had been adamant of making her reconsider this "foolish" idea—but now...here he was and willing to aid her.

She realized she couldn't stop herself from asking him.

"…Why are you…?"

There was clandestine motivation in his eyes as he smiled at her.

"Just as I am entitled to my own doubts....", he said softly, "I am likewise entitled to my own reasons."


End file.
